Read Online You Took My Heart by Elizabeth Hoy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Hoy
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English mammas give to their young. They quarrelled mildly for a few minutes about the rival merits of plum cake and cold sausages, and then they both apologized to Joan and switched the conversation with a jerk to more conventional paths.
But Joan had no heart any more for her visit. She kneeled there on the hearth-rug with Ivan and his toys, so pale and diminished, all the life, all the color drained out of her. Not even the new blue costume could save her now from the awful feeling of defeat that had seized on her. And presently she said once more that she would have to get back to St. Angela’s, glad this time that it was true and that she would h ave to run through the intervening streets like a whirlwind if she were to be on duty punctually by six o’clock.
Garth picked up his hat with an air of determination. He would drive her back, he said, and beat down her protests with an almost bullying air.
"Don’t be ridiculous, Joanna!” he commanded. “Trot up those stairs and get into my car this very minute. You know you’ve barely got time to make it even if I drive you. You’d never do it by bus.”
She gave in limply. There was nothing else to do. Vera Petrovna was charming in her farewell, begging her to come again soon, to come any time. “We are really so near to you,” she pointed out. “We are practically neighbors, so you must come whenever you are off duty, whenever you like.”
Ivan said bleakly, “You got to come back I can’t possibly do this ole jig-saw puzzle if you don’t. You’re better at jig-saw puzzles even than Mr. Perros.”
But there was one puzzle she would never solve, Joan was thinking miserably, as she took her seat beside Garth in the big, open car ... the puzzle of Garth and Vera Petrovna, the puzzle of the far-off beginning of this strange story whose climax had so curiously engulfed her too, and shattered her life within her.
Garth was looking at her intently to the detriment of his driving. With a muffled oath he missed an oncoming taxi-cab by inches, then set his face to the road ahead of him in grim silence.
“It’s nice of you to run me back to the hospital,” she said formally. “Though I could quite well have got there on my own. There was no need for you to leave your friend, Madame Petrovna, on my account.”
She hadn’t meant it to sound bitter and small and spiteful, but somehow it did sound most frightfully all of those things.
Garth laughed. A very hollow laugh.
He said, “That’s right, Joanna! Come out with it. Let me have it in the neck if you feel like it. I’m glad we’ve got to the bottom of the mystery at last. It is because of my friendship with Vera Petrovna that you’re angry with me—it’s that and nothing else which has made you treat me like an outcast these last weeks. I might have guessed it if I hadn’t been such a blind fool. Own up, now! It is that, isn’t it?”
“ Yes,” said Joan in a muffled tone, and instantly wished she hadn’t admitted it. Her eyes were hot with pain turning to him. “It’s a little hard for me to understand, Garth. That’s all. She seems to be so very important to you—”
He put in grimly, “She is. Frightfully important.” She saw his face go oddly haggard, his mouth tighten. He said quietly, “Joanna, my dear, I’ve been wanting to tell you about Vera Petrovna for years but somehow I’ve never had the courage. But now you’ve got to know. Vera Petrovna is my wife.”
CHAPTER FIVE
For a moment Garth wondered if Joan had heard him. His swift unhappy side-glance took in her clear profile, the jaunty new blue hat above the tender curls, the small straight nose, the sweet red mouth quivering a little ominously. So she had heard! But he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Her eyes looked straight ahead under their warm dark lashes.
Garth swung the big car round into the hospital square. It was quiet suddenly with the traffic of the streets left behind. In the garden the trees
But Joan had no heart any more for her visit. She kneeled there on the hearth-rug with Ivan and his toys, so pale and diminished, all the life, all the color drained out of her. Not even the new blue costume could save her now from the awful feeling of defeat that had seized on her. And presently she said once more that she would have to get back to St. Angela’s, glad this time that it was true and that she would h ave to run through the intervening streets like a whirlwind if she were to be on duty punctually by six o’clock.
Garth picked up his hat with an air of determination. He would drive her back, he said, and beat down her protests with an almost bullying air.
"Don’t be ridiculous, Joanna!” he commanded. “Trot up those stairs and get into my car this very minute. You know you’ve barely got time to make it even if I drive you. You’d never do it by bus.”
She gave in limply. There was nothing else to do. Vera Petrovna was charming in her farewell, begging her to come again soon, to come any time. “We are really so near to you,” she pointed out. “We are practically neighbors, so you must come whenever you are off duty, whenever you like.”
Ivan said bleakly, “You got to come back I can’t possibly do this ole jig-saw puzzle if you don’t. You’re better at jig-saw puzzles even than Mr. Perros.”
But there was one puzzle she would never solve, Joan was thinking miserably, as she took her seat beside Garth in the big, open car ... the puzzle of Garth and Vera Petrovna, the puzzle of the far-off beginning of this strange story whose climax had so curiously engulfed her too, and shattered her life within her.
Garth was looking at her intently to the detriment of his driving. With a muffled oath he missed an oncoming taxi-cab by inches, then set his face to the road ahead of him in grim silence.
“It’s nice of you to run me back to the hospital,” she said formally. “Though I could quite well have got there on my own. There was no need for you to leave your friend, Madame Petrovna, on my account.”
She hadn’t meant it to sound bitter and small and spiteful, but somehow it did sound most frightfully all of those things.
Garth laughed. A very hollow laugh.
He said, “That’s right, Joanna! Come out with it. Let me have it in the neck if you feel like it. I’m glad we’ve got to the bottom of the mystery at last. It is because of my friendship with Vera Petrovna that you’re angry with me—it’s that and nothing else which has made you treat me like an outcast these last weeks. I might have guessed it if I hadn’t been such a blind fool. Own up, now! It is that, isn’t it?”
“ Yes,” said Joan in a muffled tone, and instantly wished she hadn’t admitted it. Her eyes were hot with pain turning to him. “It’s a little hard for me to understand, Garth. That’s all. She seems to be so very important to you—”
He put in grimly, “She is. Frightfully important.” She saw his face go oddly haggard, his mouth tighten. He said quietly, “Joanna, my dear, I’ve been wanting to tell you about Vera Petrovna for years but somehow I’ve never had the courage. But now you’ve got to know. Vera Petrovna is my wife.”
CHAPTER FIVE
For a moment Garth wondered if Joan had heard him. His swift unhappy side-glance took in her clear profile, the jaunty new blue hat above the tender curls, the small straight nose, the sweet red mouth quivering a little ominously. So she had heard! But he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Her eyes looked straight ahead under their warm dark lashes.
Garth swung the big car round into the hospital square. It was quiet suddenly with the traffic of the streets left behind. In the garden the trees
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